


dont go far

by kogaritsu



Category: King Of Prism, プリティーリズム | Pretty Rhythm
Genre: Codependency, Developing Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Possibly Unrequited Love, Touch-Starved, brief relationship study, crazy gonna crazy amiright fellas!, hope the change of mood isnt too jarring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 21:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20365579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogaritsu/pseuds/kogaritsu
Summary: Snow was beginning to stick to the ground, meaning that there’d soon be nowhere for Hiro to sit down. A resounding “man, this sucks” reverberated through his head when he squinted through his glasses to look for a dry bench. There was one hidden under the wide leaves of a tree, and Hiro seriously considered running to reach it. He lacked a serious amount of will and energy though, so he scuffed his sneakers against the cement as he made his way through the thinning crowd. The bench didn’t look comfortable, but he wasn’t looking for much more than a solid thing to slump against until his chest hurt less. Or until his texts to Kazuki sent. Whichever happened first.“Hiro.” Kouji intercepted his path, however, dressed just as nicely as before, “You’ll freeze out here.”





	dont go far

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like 2 months ago and just got around to editing it dont look at me

America, Hiro concluded after aimlessly shuffling around the same city square for over an hour, was nothing like it was in the movies. He didn’t really think it was some sparkling paradise where everyone was happy and employed, but a man could hope. It was cold, too; Kouji had mentioned that even California got cold in the winter, but Hiro was blinded by the never-ending beach trips on TV. He’d brought a coat, because he trusted Kouji’s judgement, but he didn’t expect snow. It wasn’t a whole lot of snow, but it was snowing regardless, and Hiro hadn’t brought a pair of gloves. His hat and scarf would be enough for a while, but he couldn’t spend the whole night wandering around in the cold.

There were less people outside as the sun set completely, making the park he’d taken refuge in feel much lonelier than it really was. While he was happy to be left alone, a very large part of him wished he wasn't in a foreign country surrounded by strangers. His bed, across the ocean and feeling worlds away, called to Hiro, offering warmth and security. If only there existed a flight that could take him straight home. Kazuki would have an “I told you so” waiting for him, but Hiro knew that alongside it would be a great deal of comforting and TLC. None of his texts were going through, however, so Kazuki would have to wait for an update.

Snow was beginning to stick to the ground, meaning that there’d soon be nowhere for Hiro to sit down. A resounding “man, this sucks” reverberated through his head when he squinted through his glasses to hunt for a dry bench. There was one hidden under the wide leaves of a tree, and Hiro seriously considered running to reach it. He lacked a serious amount of will and energy though, so he scuffed his sneakers against the cement as he made his way through the thinning crowd. The bench didn’t look comfortable, but he wasn’t looking for much more than a solid thing to slump against until his chest hurt less. Or until his texts to Kazuki sent. Whichever happened first. 

“Hiro.” Kouji intercepted his path, however, dressed just as nicely as before, “You’ll freeze out here.” 

His tone was warm, like it had been when they were kids, but underneath it was the cold edge of his temper. Even then, any words from Kouji were better than none, so Hiro took a few steps closer, as if the warmth in his tone could ward off the flurries around them. The snow didn’t melt, but Kouji did peel off one of his gloves for Hiro to wear. It took a lot of self control on Hiro’s part to not smile too wide when Kouji interlocked their bare fingers, tucking both hands into his coat pocket. His fingers were still just as calloused from the strings of his guitar, still just as dexterous and exact as they were when he taught Hiro to play the piano. He smelled different now, like he’d changed his soap, but not his cologne; Hiro pretended not to feel the slightest bit captivated by the revelation that even when Kouji lived across the sea, they still shared cologne. Were he any less proud, maybe he’d consider why his body temperature rose a few degrees when he thought about it. 

Kouji slowed his pace so they could walk comfortably together, and were there not a tremendous amount of tension between them, Hiro might have pretended they were on a date like he did in middle school. It was funny, actually, middle school was the only other time that Kouji had been this angry with him. Hiro could feel it in the firmness of his grip, could see it in the grit of teeth and furrow of his brow. Beyond that, he could make out concern, though, so at least they weren’t past the point of no return just yet. There was still time for Hiro to fuck up worse and make Kouji hate him, and the prestiege of that realization swirled both negatively and positively in the pit of his stomach.

“So much for not wanting to see my face, huh?” If the twitch of Kouji’s fingers was anything to go off of, Hiro’s words did little to ease the tension between them.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” Hiro’s hand was starting to hurt, “You’re still behaving like a spoiled child with his toys taken away.”

“You’re looking at me, though.” An endless mantra of _shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up_ played like a scratched record in Hiro’s head.

“Believe me, Hiro, I’d prefer not to.” Kouji was as cold as the winter winds around them, and Hiro choked on his next words.

Hiro didn’t end up responding, putting a special amount of effort into not letting his hand go limp in Kouji’s. Staying quiet didn’t help, but it didn’t hurt, either.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they weren’t homebound. Kouji’s phone was buzzing like a beehive and he was smiling to himself every time he read the incoming messages. Hiro didn’t understand much English on a conversational level, but he distinctly remembered mentions of a house party among Kouji’s work friends. He wasn’t really sure if being dragged along to a party of people he unfairly despised was a good idea. Regardless, Kouji’s grip was inescapable. Even if it weren’t, all he had to do was ask and Hiro would follow him to the ends of the earth. 

Lucky for the both of them, the party wasn’t too far from the park. It was loud and full of safe-faced Americans that Hiro couldn’t even hope to remember by the end of the evening. They all seemed to recognize and know him, though, which made sense, he supposed. He was a prism star and had known Kouji for years, obviously he’d be mentioned once or twice every now and again. Nothing to feel special for. Hiro chanted it in his head, tempted to ask if it was alright for him to sit outside until Kouji was done socializing. Before he could arrange the words in his head, however, his hand was released from Kouji’s coat pocket, cold as it hung by his side.

“Stay close, okay?” Kouji murmured in Japanese, so close to Hiro that it felt intimate.

Then he was gone as if they’d never touched, speaking English with his coworkers as if it were his first language. Something between anger and jealousy rolled through Hiro’s nervous system, and he reached out to catch the cuff of Kouji’s sweater. To his dismay, Kouji tugged his arm free with little resistance, beckoning him along. Hiro didn’t want to deal with drunk Americans draping themselves all over his best friend; he wanted to pack Kouji into a suitcase and take him home to Japan again. 

He wanted to share their room again, whispering into the space between their beds and watching Kouji’s ponytail come free of his hair tie as he tossed and turned in his sleep. It had only been a few months, but the separation anxiety had taken sleep and practice time from Over the Rainbow and Hiro was growing sick of dealing with the empty space where Kouji’s things used to be. Kazuki missed him too, so maybe it’d only be fair to snatch Kouji up and drag him home for all three of their sakes. It took a few seconds too long for him to realize just how horrible it was to think that way. Maybe, just maybe, going to America wasn’t the best choice Hiro had ever made.

Empty-handed and thoroughly abandoned in a sea of both nameless and faceless Hollywood nobodies, Hiro subconsciously picked at his chapped lower lip. Distantly, it hurt and the taste of iron met his tongue, but he twisted and tugged until the skin was no longer connected. Licking the nowfound split in his lip tasted bad and made it sting, but at least gave him something to do while he scanned the crowd. Kazuki’s voiced nagged in his head to stop tearing up his mouth, and Hiro relaxed somewhat at the thought.

His heart sank when Kouji returned to his side with a cup of something that smelled like roadkill. The way his arm felt over Hiro’s shoulders wasn’t enough to ease the weight on his diaphragm. Kouji’s drink tasted as bad as it smelled, but numbed some of the feelings boiling over. Hiro didn’t bother worrying if he was being rude when he didn’t talk to anyone else at the party.

\---

The ride back to Kouji’s apartment was spent in someone else’s car, buckled too tight and full of finger foods. There was a woman lying across their laps, stinking of heavy perfume and stale alcohol and drooling all over Hiro’s pant leg. As he watched Kouji’s hand drag up and down the length of her back, irritation welled like a geyser, eager to explode. Until they arrived at her stop, he considered his envy entirely unjust and ridiculous; when Kouji walked her to the door, practically supporting all of her weight, however, Hiro decided that it wasn’t crazy for him to be a little jealous. Seeing him kiss the top of her hand only made him feel worse, head spinning and guts dropping out to make room for his ever sinking heart.

The woman’s perfume had rubbed off on him by the time he got back into the car, and Hiro could hardly stand to inhale. Kouji asked him what was wrong, all loving concern and quiet mumbling, and Hiro wanted to be honest so badly. A part of him cried to share his feelings with Kouji, even though they were so terribly complicated. Hiro wanted to hear about Kouji’s feelings, too, and provide a sense of security if he could. 

Instead of voicing any of that, he suggested that they could both use a shower.

\---

Kouji dried his hair while he sat on the floor by the heater, staring rather blankly out of the window to watch snow stacking on the outer sill. Hiro watched his every move, breath hitching at the way his ill-fitting sweatshirt inched up his wrists and sides. It clearly wasn’t his originally, just slightly too small, and it was obviously aged, as it was branded with the faded logo of Kakyoin academy. The realization that the sweatshirt Kouji was wearing was, in fact, one of Hiro’s that’d gone missing months before, took his remaining breath away.

They hadn’t been apart long enough for Hiro to ache for Kouji’s presence, and yet the distance between them felt like it once again spanned the Pacific. The floor was too cold and the lights too dim, so there really wasn’t much of an environment for the things he was feeling. Like gears turning against one another, every thought that’d plagued Hiro from middle school on began to make a little more sense. They’d always made some to him, but _knowing_ was so much easier than guessing and avoiding them. He’d known, of course, for a while that the connection he and Kouji shared was a bit different from just friendship, knew that there was something else developing over sheet music and textbooks. To feel it so certainly in his heart was something life changing, however, like letting go of wool over his eyes and embracing a part of himself that he’d isolated for so many years. Hiro nearly smiled.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked before he had the chance to bite his tongue.

Kouji looked startled, to say the least, fingers tightening around his towel. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I wanna.” Hiro dared to crawl closer, hands resting a few centimeters from Kouji’s ankles. “It’s okay if you say no. I won’t be mad.”

Kouji looked apprehensive. His hair stuck to the indents of his temples, as wet and cold as the snow blocking out the streetlights outside. Hiro wanted, more than anything, to brush it aside and feel it slip through his fingers just like Kouji did all those months ago. His nose burned like he was going to cry.

“You don’t have to tell me yes. Just please don’t send me away like you hate me again. I can’t handle it.” Hiro was getting desperate, feeling something ugly and wrong in his chest at the thought. His fingers curled around Kouji’s ankle a little too tight, and the flinch that jerked Kouji’s entire body made Hiro want to vomit.

As his lips formed an apology, Kouji’s formed a “yes.” A beat of silence passed, and he cleared his throat, “I don’t want to say no to you.” 

When Hiro reached, Kouji did too, slipping into his grasp just as he’d slipped out of it. His skin was cold, but underneath was a thrumming pulse racing faster than the snow falling outside. The wooden floor hurt through the fabric of Hiro’s pants, but it didn’t really matter when Kouji was looking up at him with eyes he could drown in. Before their faces were even close enough to kiss, Kouji walked his fingers up to touch the split in Hiro’s lip.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, not bothering to wait for a reply before he pressed his lips to only the split, as if kissing it better.

“Not anymore.” Hiro smiled, leaning in for another as soon as Kouji was out of range.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Kouji leaned back, shaking his head teasingly, “Ask nicely.”

“Oh, genius artist Mihama Kouji,” He giggled, relishing in the momentary freedom from his negative feelings, “May I, Absolute Idol Hayami Hiro, kiss you for real this time?” 

Tapping a finger against his lips, Kouji “hmmm”ed, eyes fixed on the ceiling to avoid looking at Hiro’s grin. He conceded rather quickly, smiling a toothy smile that took years of unlived age off of his face. For the first time since Hiro had arrived in Hollywood, Kouji’s dimples caved into his cheeks, eyes softening.

“Fine, but don’t tell anyone.” He was still smiling when he sat forward enough for them to bump noses.

Kissing Kouji was somewhat indescribable. He was pliant as first, seeming unsure of which one of them was supposed to take the lead. Hiro was happy to be in control, scrambling into Kouji’s lap with a desperation he’d seldom allow surface in him. It couldn’t be helped, though; not when Kouji was giving himself over with more trust and patience than Hiro could ever deserve. It’d be a crime not to take advantage of the opportunity to make Kouji feel as loved and wanted and needed as he was. His sins of the past had no merit in that moment, nor did the welling feelings that built in his chest. Rather than trying to run from either of them, Hiro simply _felt_ them, pushing every last drop emotion into kissing Kouji breathless. 

And breathless Kouji was, breaking away to inhale on a shudder, fingers tight in the back of Hiro’s shirt. His eyes were squeezed shut, eyelashes wet and teeth clenched so hard Hiro could practically feel the cramp building in his jaw. Confliction was rife in his expression, as if he wanted to continue, wanted to let someone past his walls and hold on tight, but something was standing in the way. Kissing the line of Kouji’s jaw and all the way down to his pulse, Hiro considered that maybe the thing standing in the way was himself. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d missed something and now he’s the only thing stopping Kouji from being happy. He was a fucking menace, then, claiming to love him. 

Kouji had kissed him, though, clinging to his shirt and pulling him close enough that Hiro could feel his heartbeat against his chest. That meant something. After leaving a faint bruise over Kouji’s pulse, he came back up to kiss his lips. His lips were met with some enthusiasm, clammy hands cradling his face and wet hair beneath his hands. Everything was okay in that moment, because Kouji’s heart sang in time with Hiro’s, pumping like the beats of a hummingbird’s wings. Kouji wasn’t mad at him for a moment, Kouji didn’t hate him, Kouji may have even loved him. And Hiro loved him back, taking him to the floor and holding him there with kisses with too sharp edges and fingers that tugged too hard. 

When Kouji whimpered at the pain in his scalp, Hiro’s hands migrated south to his shoulders, pressing into them as if he could banish their tension. He was blind to the consequences of presuming Kouji wanted him, overcompensating his nonverbal apologies. As for Kouji, he’d surrendered to Hiro’s touch, knowing that he’d been caught in a trap and that throwing caution to the wind was dangerous. This situation was one of his own making, a fruit of his vulnerability. 

The heater sputtered out as Hiro pushed harder on Kouji’s shoulders, as if any amount of force could keep him from straying away again. Kouji had gone rather still underneath him, staring up at the ceiling as he let Hiro do whatever it was that he wanted. Unspoken between them was a violent argument, verbalized by Hiro’s desperate need to keep Kouji in place and Kouji’s apathy. He’d never cared so little for anything Hiro did to him, and it was far past concerning, veering into frightening. Frantic hands chased each other down Kouji’s sides, searching for the newly absent warmth that’d _just_ been there. Where could it have gone?

“Am I hurting you?” Hiro had the gall to ask, not hesitating before returning to the side of Kouji’s neck and sucking another bruise above the neckline of his shirt.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Kouji’s voice vibrated against his mouth, “To hurt me?”

“Shut up.” Hiro bit down to give his mouth something better to do than call Kouji cruel names he didn’t mean. Even then, he still forced out muffled words with his mouth full, “Stop saying that.”

Kouji yelped in pain, shoving at Hiro and pulling his shoulders up high enough to shield his neck some, “Don’t bite so hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Hiro kissed some more, as if being gentle would heal the aggravated ring of broken blood vessels under Kouji’s skin, “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Kouji pushed at him again, “Hiro, this isn’t working. We need to stop.” 

With that, Hiro sat back and more, shifting until they were no longer touching. Kouji’s face was flushed and eyes were shiny with what could have easily been unshed tears. Hiro didn’t dare move close enough to find out if they were. Shame coursed through his veins like deadly venom, coagulating in the center of his chest and, briefly, taking out his senses. It hurt so bad. Kouji was speaking, he could tell, but he ears didn’t want to hear it and his eyes didn’t want to see his mouth move anymore. It was childish, he knew that, but childish always worked for him, so he had no other defense. Embarrassing.

Kouji’s patience, it seemed, was back with a vengeance, as his hand was rested comfortably on Hiro’s back when his voice permeated Hiro’s cloud of negativity, “Get some sleep, Hiro.”

“Kouji, I-” He tried to apologize, but was silenced by a shake of Kouji’s head.

There was no choice to be made, it seemed, and Hiro rose from the floor on shaky legs to collapse on Kouji’s lonely mattress. He was tucked in rather kindly, scratching a familiar itch in the back of his mind. At least, above all else, Kouji was kind. Far too forgiving, but kind nonetheless. Hiro envied him.

An ‘I love you’ was stuck on his lips when Kouji closed the door. From outside it, he clearly heard a sigh of, “I’m sorry.” 

Sleep came faster than usual, a colorless plunge into a dreamless slumber that did nothing to the aching exhaustion America placed upon his shoulders. Just before dropping off, the gut-wrenching sound of Kouji sniffling drifted down the hall, and Hiro was paralyzed by it. He hoped they didn’t see each other in the morning.

\---

When Hiro woke up, Kouji was nowhere to be found with only a printed boarding pass and money for a taxi left on the kitchen counter. The apartment was cold and impersonal without him there. Hiro left without even thinking about eating, resisting the urge to cry when he flipped over his boarding pass to find neatly written instructions to help him get back to the airport. Something, whether it be hope or dread, settled in his bones as he hailed a cab. 

Hiro’s plane landed in Tokyo in the middle of the dark, but Kazuki was there to catch him when he stepped off. The Prism King Cup was on the rise, and for whatever reason, Hiro felt very little drive to compete at all.

**Author's Note:**

> a ah a hah catch me at @mihouji


End file.
